


Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice

by The Queen of Thorns (s_millss)



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Aged-Up Jellybean Jones, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Riverdale AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-22 13:17:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13764975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_millss/pseuds/The%20Queen%20of%20Thorns
Summary: Forsythia Jones; Jellybean to her family, JB to her friends. To him, she's always been something else. Riverdale AU (Aged-up Jellybean)





	1. I - Candy

**AN:** Any recognisable dialogue belongs exclusively to the Netflix Original T.V Show; Riverdale

* * *

**Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice**

Forsythia Jones; Jellybean to her family, JB to her friends. To him, she's always been something else. Riverdale AU (Aged-up Jellybean)

* * *

 **Chapter I -** _Candy_

* * *

" _Our story is about a town, a small town, and the people who live in the town. From a distance, it presents itself like so many other small towns all over the world; safe, decent… innocent. Get closer though, and you start seeing the shadows underneath. The name of our town, is Riverdale."_

She wakes to the sound of retching. It's familiar, in way that makes her eyes sting and her heart ache; the reason Juggy is gone, the reason Gladys had left, the sound… of a broken man.

Jellybean stumbles blindly into the kitchen, flicking the kettle on as she passes, retrieving two mugs from the cupboard above the sink, and a teaspoon from the draw. Coffee is made on autopilot, and she leaves one on the counter; it won't be drunk, but she makes it anyway, even if every night when she returns home, she pours it down the drain. She dresses quickly, intermittedly downing sips of her scalding coffee, and is out the door of the trailer before the first can is cracked and the last dregs of whiskey are sucked from last night's bottle.

Sunnyside Trailer Park is primarily Southside Serpent territory, but she knows some of the residents kicking back on the other side of the park with empty paper straws hanging from their mouths have no affiliation with the _family_ she was born into, nor would they; Serpents have no time for drug-addicted wannabe _Ghoulies._ Jellybean swings her leg over the old Honda Cb550 that's now more hers than Jughead's, pausing in reaching for the helmet hanging from the handlebars when she feels eyes upon her. JB looks up slowly, her fingers tangling in her hair as she pulls it to one side, and sees him, a few trailers down, lounging against the wooden railing outside his home, smirk on his lips and cigarette in hand. She's seen him around before but knows him only by the leather jacket he dons and the motorcycle he rides. He's handsome; broad shouldered and dark haired and she suspects, but can't be certain, that his eyes are darker still. But it's the tattoo on the side of his neck that she keeps coming back to; he bares it proudly, wears it with the gravitas of a prince crowned, and his smirk widens farther when JB realises she's staring, and she ducks her head, her cheeks aflame.

She pulls the helmet on with practiced ease, the crown Jughead scratched into before the worst still as prevalent as ever and revs the engine, tearing out of the trailer park at a breakneck speed.

Riverdale High School is just as it was before the fateful events of the fourth of July weekend; crisp, clean, _flawless_. JB has always felt uneasy here, all too uncomfortably aware of the thinly veiled distain she's viewed with and often wishes Gladys hadn't been so set on getting she and Jughead out of the Southside. The hallways are empty, and JB knows immediately she's late; withstanding Mr Weatherbee's glare with a raised chin as she slips, quietly, through the side entrance of the gymnasium. Cheryl Blossom, the picture of grief, stands behind the lectern, _speaking with the confidence only a twin could have_. Jellybean rolls her eyes; Cheryl has always had a flair for the dramatics; and finds a seat in the back row, her eyes casting across to Jughead, as he sits with his ever-present laptop cradled in his lap.

Her eyes remain on him. Living at the Drive-In hasn't been kind to him; he's thinner than she remembers, with dark bruises under his eyes and clothes that she's certain haven't been washed with anything stronger than a bar of soap. Jellybean is not surprised when he looks up and offers her a soft smile; god how she misses him, how it used to be, before Dad started drinking and Gladys left.

The gym empties, and they're left alone. The bell rings, and again, she's late.

Jughead tucks his laptop under his arm, and wanders over, smiling that same sardonic smile he inherited from their Dad. He drops down beside her, and they sit, in silence, neither able to speak the words that need to be said.

He breaks first. "I've missed you Beanie."

Jellybean almost cries. "Juggy... come home."

Jughead stiffens, and Jellybean knows he won't come back, not until something, _someone_ , changes. "Beanie, you know I can't."

"Forget about Dad for a god _damn_ minute." Jellybean snaps, angry at his blinkered view. "You didn't just leave him when you left." Jughead looks stricken, and she's almost glad; she hasn't seen him in months and she wants, no _needs,_ him to get out of his head and understand. "Why Juggy? Why didn't you tell me you were going to leave? I would have come with you."

"I-"

"I woke up and you were _gone…_ " Jellybean cuts him off before he can offer an excuse. "It was Mum leaving all over again."

"Jellybean… I'm sorry." He whispers, and she knows, he genuinely is. "But I'm not coming back."

Jellybean nods once, and stands, blinking tears from her eyes and swallowing through the lump in her throat. "I'll see you in class Jughead."

There's still a few people lingering in the corridors as she leaves the gymnasium; footballers in their Varsity jackets, a few of Cheryl Blossom's River Vixens, Betty Cooper, Kevin Keller and a girl she doesn't recognise. Suddenly she's incredibly interested in the obnoxious posters advertising the back to school formal donning the walls. JB is nothing short of relived when Betty simply offers a friendly smile as she passes. She hasn't truly spoken with Betty in months, their childhood friendship dwindling into a casual acquaintanceship through no fault of either of them. JB imagines Alice Cooper would finally be happy without the _bad influences_ of the Jones' twins around her precious second-born.

School is… easy.

She's not challenged by the content and learns new concepts quickly, often finding herself fighting boredom, her classmates seeming to lag behind. She is first from her seat when the final bell rings, eager to leave the Northside as nothing more than a reflection in her side mirrors, and dumps her textbooks in her locker, exchanging them for her motorcycle helmet.

Aside from the warning from Principal Weatherbee against further truancy, class was thankfully uneventful.

"I didn't know you still rode."

JB looks up, and remembers suddenly, that Archie Andrews has the locker to the left of hers. She shrugs, adjusting her backpack on her shoulder with her free hand. "We haven't had a proper conversation since we were thirteen Archie. How could you have known?"

He seems uncomfortable by the reminder, and JB wonders abstractly if his relationship with Jughead is just as awkward. "I guess we haven't." He rallies however, and taps the crown etched onto the front of the black helmet, a friendly smile on his lips. "What does Jughead think?"

She pulls the helmet out of his reach and slams her locker door shut, abruptly ending the stilted conversation. "Goodbye Andrews."

JB knows he hadn't meant to sprinkle salt in an open wound, in fact, she doubts he even knows the significance of the bike she rides. Sweet, _oblivious_ Archie Andrews.

"JB!" He calls her name loudly, but she's already halfway to the exit and feels no shame in lifting her hood over her hair and blatantly ignoring his shout. Childhood friendship be damned.

The juxtaposition of the shining, new off the line Nissans Altima's, Ford F-150's and Toyota Corolla's against the vintage Chevrolet Impala in Cheryl Blossom's signature cherry-red, the classic Volkswagen Beetle's and the aged Dodge's, never fail to make Jellybean smile; it's Riverdale in a nutshell. Everything old and new, all at once. Their motorbike is exactly how she left it, entirely out of place amongst the assorted four-wheeled vehicles in the lot.

Jellybean slings her leg over the seat, eyeing the fuel gage speculatively as tension drains from her body like water from a leaky faucet, her boot resting loosely on the foot-peg. She's got just over three-quarters of a tank left; just enough to waste a few hours with a roundtrip to Greendale… and so she does. The sky is overcast, but the roads are dry, and she doesn't think she'll ever feel as at _home_ as she does on the back of a motorcycle, anywhere else. Her ears are ringing when she finally rolls back into the Sunnyside Trailer Park hours later, just as the last of the sunlight fades into the night.

JB levers down the kickstand and lets the bike idle for a moment, stepping off and dropping her backpack in the grass. She stretches out, arms overhead and feels her spine pop magnificently and leans over, hands on the back of her ankles as she stretches out her hamstrings and calves. Footsteps behind her cause her to straighten and she reaches for the keys still in the ignition of their motorcycle, flicking them off and tucking them safely into her back pocket, tying her jacket tightly around her waist.

"Candy, right?"

She raises an eyebrow and leans back against the bike; after he caught her staring this morning, JB doesn't bother to hide her examination of him now. He's wearing his jacket now, dark-wash jeans that fit him like a _glove_ and worn leather motorcycle boots with the laces wrapped twice around his ankles. She spies a leather cord tied around his right wrist and a large silver ring on his left hand; she notes curiously that it's not a snake, as expected, but a _wolf_. "Excuse me?" She questions.

"Your name." He says, eyeing her just as speculatively, and just as blatantly. JB wonders what he sees. "It's got something to do with candy?"

Jellybean smiles and sees the barest of grins reflected on his lips. "Yes, it does. And yours, Serpent?"

His grin stretches, and she gets a glimpse of perfect white teeth. He rubs the side of his neck, long fingers obscuring the tattoo she _itches_ to trace. "Not what you'd expect."

"Do I have to guess?" Jellybean asks slyly, watching as he tucks his free hand in the pocket of his aged leather jacket.

There's mischief in his eyes when he answers. "Tell you what Candy, how 'bout a game?"

JB stands, stepping closer to the Serpent. He's taller than her; not overly so, but just enough that she must tilt her head ever so slightly back just to look him in the eye. His eyes are just as she suspected; almost pitch in colour, and infinite in depth. "And what would be the prize?"

"Winner's prerogative."

Jellybean grins widely. _Winner's prerogative_. She nods, eyes flitting across his face, regarding his strong cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass with something like fascination. "Rules?"

"Three guesses." He states, and for a moment his gaze shifts, appraising her lips quickly before meeting her eyes again. "Whoever guesses first wins."

JB inclines her head slightly. "Terms accepted. You have a clue for my name, what's mine for yours?"

He spreads his arms wide, stepping backwards and grinning boyishly. "Flowers, Candy. Your clue is flowers."

She watches him until he's gone, slinking into the shadows like he was born in them. _Flowers?_ Jellybean has no idea where to begin, so she puts it from her mind and picks up her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder and bounding up the stairs to the trailer. Its unlocked, the rooms are dark, and the air is cold. She flips on a light, and the coffee sitting untouched on the kitchen bench is the first thing she sees. Any levity gained in her conversation with her Southside Serpent neighbour dissipates, and she dumps the fetid liquid down the sink harshly, the mug clattering loudly against the stainless steel.

Her mood plummets and her heart dips; she's alone, always, always _bitterly_ alone. Abandoned by Gladys, abandoned by FP, abandoned… by Jughead.

She upends her backpack on the couch, and from beneath the beat-up coffee table, she pulls the portable record player Jughead brought her for their birthday the year before. It only just fits in her empty bag, and she carefully tucks her favourite vinyl record into the remaining space. Jellybean slips her arms through the straps and heads back outside, climbing up onto the wooden railing of the stairs with the ease of years of practice, easily leveraging herself onto the roof of the trailer that used to be home. Situated in the middle of the roof now, she shrugs out of her backpack and pulls her jacket on, setting the record player gingerly beside her. JB loads her favourite vinyl reverently and breathes a little easier when the familiar strains of _Speak to Me_ kick off Pink Floyd's 1973 album.

JB lays back on the corrugated roof, her backpack folded and gathered beneath her head and stares up at the stars, wishing, not for the first time, that she were somewhere else entirely.

* * *

 **AN:** And so it begins.

For Pete, who didn't know what I wrote, but encouraged me anyway. I love you buddy. Until we meet again.


	2. II - Buttercup

**AN:** Any recognisable dialogue belongs exclusively to the Netflix Original T.V Show; Riverdale

* * *

**Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice**

Forsythia Jones; Jellybean to her family, JB to her friends. To him, she's always been something else. Riverdale AU (Aged-up Jellybean)

* * *

 **Chapter II –** _Buttercup_

* * *

JB wakes on the roof, Pink Floyd still playing softly.

Dew has settled overnight, the thin layer of frost making the corrugated iron slick and her clothes damp. She stands carefully, her clothes clinging to her body uncomfortably and stows the record player in her backpack, shimming off the roof with the same ease she climbed up with. JB drops onto the small veranda with a loud thud, and pushes the unlocked door open; FP lays, sprawled drunk on the couch, an empty bottle of jack on his stomach and crumpled beer cans on the floor beside his feet.

Anger blooms in her chest and she slams the front door so hard the walls shake and her father stirs from his alcohol induced stupor. Her backpack is left on the worn dining table as she stalks toward the small-windows and wrenches the half-shut blinds fully open, letting the early morning sun in.

FP groans, and Jellybean glares. "Up and at 'em Dad, you're burning daylight."

He groans out something she thinks sounds like her name, but she ignores him, turning on the lights and brightening the trailer further. Jellybean knows she's being incredibly petty, but she's at the end of her rope; she has no idea where to begin in repairing their damaged relationship. She shuts the cupboard door roughly, wincing as the few plates on the shelf rattle precariously.

"Enough!" FP growls, sitting up and directing a glare at her back.

JB slams two mugs down on the counter, her hands shaking as she spoons instant coffee into the cups and follows it with boiling water. She stirs them quickly and thrusts one carelessly toward her father, scalding coffee sloshing over the edge of the mug and onto the dirty carpet. "Drink." She orders, and retrieves her backpack, carefully stowing the record player back in its hiding spot.

FP complies and hisses when the liquid burns his tongue.

"Careful." Jellybean murmurs uselessly, "It's hot."

He gives her a half-hearted glare. "I guess I deserved that."

Jellybean grips her own mug tightly but makes no move to bring it to her lips. "I guess you did." She agrees softly, unable to meet his eyes. She sits, fiddling with a loose thread on the armchair, the silence between them hangs awkwardly until she breaks it finally. "You've been a terrible father."

She hears a dull _clink_ as he sits his mug on the coffee table and listens as the couch creaks and clothes rustle. Jellybean feels so young then, so incredibly like a child, and not the adult she's been forced to become in the last year.

"I know." He whispers.

"Do you?" Jellybean asks still unable to look anywhere but her shaking hands. "Juggy left because of you. He'd rather live in a freezing two by four projector-booth at the Drive In than here at home with his family, because of _you_. You may still be here Dad… but you… you, _stopped_ being our Father the day Gladys walked out that door."

"Jellybean…" His voice is like gravel, rough and sharp all at once, and when she finally gains the courage to look up at him, she finds him near tears.

"I love you Dad, so, so much. But I need you to understand, sitting here and watching you drink yourself into an early grave… it's breaking my heart."

She sees his expression turn to stone and anger flare in his eyes. "Then leave Jellybean! I never asked you to stay!"

"I have nowhere else to go!" Jellybean yells, on her feet and matching his anger stoke for stoke. "Do you think I want to be here? In this shitty trailer that smells like alcohol and vomit and gasoline? I'm fifteen! I don't want to be your parent, I want you to be mine."

Still in the damp clothes from the night before, Jellybean leaves. The skies have opened and rain falls heavily, sinking into her skin and chilling her to the bone within minutes. JB tugs her bike keys from her back pocket, her hands shaking as she bends down to twist them in the ignition. The bike rumbles, and she pulls her long hair into a braid, tucking it beneath her denim jacket and zipping it fully. She feels eyes upon her as she pulls her helmet over her head; he's watching again, the serpent with a name relating to flowers and she doesn't want to imagine just how much he heard. There's no privacy here, in the realm ruled by her Father and she wonders, what do they think when they overhear the Serpent King argue with his daughter?

JB accelerates out of Sunnyside, her tires squealing on the wet bitumen and rain pelting on her shoulders, the rumble of the bike almost overshadowed by the roar of the wind; but still, her mind refuses to stop. _"Then leave Jellybean!"_ Over and over and over again, FP's words repeat in her mind, each repetition cutting deeper into her heart; she has no desire to follow Juggy, running, instead of fighting, leaving, instead of staying... she hadn't wanted to recognise the merits in Juggy's decision, hadn't wanted to believe that perhaps... Jughead was right. She had expected their Dad to guard their hearts, Jughead had expected their Father to break them. Leaving him, leaving them, she realises now, is Juggy's way of protecting his own heart from being as battered and bruised as she imagines her own is now.

The sound of the wind almost fades as the rumble in her ears turns to thunder, growing louder and louder, until she's overtaken, a helmeted figure on a gleaming black motorbike speeding ahead and swerving into her lane with skill she's not certain she can match. Leather and denim, the green serpent proudly displayed on his back; it's not her father, she knows that immediately, not Jughead, who would rather _die_ than wear the serpent brand on his back. There's really only two others it could be and JB can't imagine why either would go out of their way for _her._

The rider slows, falling in beside her with the ease of someone used to riding in a group before dropping back, and circling around to her other side. JB risks a glance toward him, her control over the motorbike unwavering as she turns her attention back to the road and speeds forward, unsurprised when she hears the unmistakable revving of an engine, as the rider behind her matches her pace. He pulls ahead once more and for a moment, JB thinks he's going to cut her off as he swerves dangerously close to the front of her bike. He misses her front tyre by what seems like inches, the wet road nothing to him as he manoeuvres the bike with _ease_ ; with sudden clarity, JB realises he's _showing off_.

She almost laughs as she revs her engine and pulls forward, cutting in front and dropping into the slip lane that would take her in the direction of the Quarry. She slows, taking the corner carefully and speeding up again on the straight, downshifting easily as the bitumen gives way to dirt, finally slowing her bike to a crawl. JB has always found the Quarry to be quite beautiful; man-made once upon a time but over the years, nature has taken the land back, trees growing again where they were cut down, the tall rock cliffs being overtaken by greenery, the water reflecting the mixture of colours prettily.

JB cuts off the engine, levering down the kickstand and stepping off, listening carefully as she removes her helmet; his bike is loud, cutting through the serenity like thunder, fitting she thinks, if the rider is who she believes.

He stops aside her, voice muffled by his helmet. "You almost lost me back there."

"What makes you think that wasn't the point?" She responds snappily, balancing her helmet carefully on the seat, and heading for the water.

At some point in their childhood, Mr Andrews and her Father had spent a weekend creating a small Jetty at the edge of the water. It was only perhaps three meters long and a meter and a half wide, but with the way the Quarry dropped intermittedly, it was the perfect depth to jump off in the summer. She has so many good memories of this place, barbeques with the Andrews and her family, swimming with Betty and Archie and Jughead.

JB kicks off her shoes, stepping onto the Jetty barefoot, and sits at the edge, feet dangling in the cool water. The rain has slowed, spitting softly now instead of pouring, the humidity in the air making the day seem far warmer than it should. A shadow falls across her, disappearing quickly when she feels him sit beside her, dark-wash jeans rolled half way up his calves, his long legs dipping far deeper into the water than her own. He lounges back on his elbows, utterly at ease, and god how she envies him; he seems not to have a care in the world.

"Why did you follow me?" She asks finally, tired of sitting in silence.

"Curiosity."

JB scoffs. "What, didn't think your Serpent King took enough shots at me? Thought you'd come and take a few of your own?"

He sits up. "No." He states firmly. "That was…" He leans back again. "Not… what I expected."

"In unity there is strength." She quotes, unable to quite hide the burning bitterness in her voice. "How much did you hear?"

"More than enough… _Jellybean_."

Jellybean turns so quickly she almost falls off the dock. "You cheated!"

He smirks. "Well, I wouldn't say I _cheated_." He sits up, mischief sparking in his pitch eyes. "Tell you what, if you can still guess my name, you win… but, only if you guess it now."

JB leans back. He's so… smug, so certain he'll win their little contest, and she's unhappy to admit he most likely will. "Well, it surely can't be Daisy." She grins as he scowls.

"Definitely not." He agrees. "That's one Jellybaby."

JB raises an eyebrow. "Jellybaby? Really?"

His grin is wide, and she just wants to wipe it off his smug face.

"Rose?" JB asks and he almost looks insulted. She pulls her knee up to her chest, one foot still dangling in the water as she studies him. He looks so… intimidating, the very essence of the brand on his neck, she can't imagine what flower would have gotten him his nickname. "Buttercup?"

He leans forward, invading her personal space and for a moment, JB wonders if perhaps she won. But his grin stretches, wide and carefree and she knows, her final guess was wrong. "Nope. You know, I'd almost be insulted that you didn't guess correctly, but here I am, the _winner_."

She pushes him away, unable to be truly mad. "Alright, tell me then Buttercup, what is your name?"

He grins, getting to his feet and shrugging off his jacket. "You know what, I don't think I will." His flannel over-shirt follows, and JB feels her cheeks flush as he tugs at the bottom of his white t-shirt, lifting it over his head, his well-muscled chest on full display. "I want my prize first, winner's prerogative remember?"

Weakly, JB protests. "You cheated Buttercup."

He grins, dropping his shirt and unbuttoning his jeans. JB looks to the overcast sky, cheeks flaming. "I did nothing of the sort." He smirks as he steps out of his jeans and offers her a hand. JB allows herself to be pulled to her feet. "I just so happened to hear a name mentioned that I thought, perhaps, might be yours," he leans forward, his breath hot on her ear, "you just didn't ask the right people."

JB shivers as he steps back; he looks so satisfied, so incredibly _gratified_ that he's the cause of the blush staining her cheeks crimson; _smug bastard,_ she thinks as he dives headfirst into the water, surfacing only moments later.

She tilts her head, watching him in the water as he rakes a hand through his hair, a few strands falling in his face.

"C'mon Candy, in you get."

JB raises an eyebrow. "Say please." She orders.

He smirks. " _Please_."

She turns around, back to him as she removes her clothes, her jacket and t-shirt joining his on the dock. She hesitates at the zip of her jeans; JB's half expecting him to heckle her as she strips and risks a glance over her shoulder. His face is pink, and she allows a smirk to cross her face as she shimmies out of her jeans and plunges into the water.

It's colder than she's used to, but warmer than she was expecting.

"Nice of you to join me." He grins as JB surfaces.

JB swims lazily toward him. "Are you going to tell me your name now Buttercup?"

He shakes his head. "Not yet. How did you get your nickname?"

Jellybean laughs and rolls in the water, floating on her back. "Depends who you ask. If you ask FP, he'll say it's because he got caught in a traffic jam on the way to the hospital because a truck had flipped and there were hundreds of boxes of Jellybeans scattered across the road. If you ask Juggy, it's because Jellybeans are his favourite sweets. If you ask Gladys, it's because that's how small I was when she found she was having twins." She looks to him, floating beside her contentedly and allows herself a small smile. "Most people just call me JB."

"JB." He murmurs, and JB thinks she likes the way it sounds on his tongue. He looks at her, mischief dancing in his eyes. "I think I prefer Candy." He grins, and splashes water toward her face.

She dodges, her outraged "Hey!" echoing off the rocks as she swims out of his reach and returns fire. JB loses sight of him during her onslaught and she stops, the water stilling ominously. "Buttercup?" She calls warily, the quarry suddenly too silent as she treads water.

JB screams as something grasps her ankle, all the horror stories Juggy spun when they were children spring to mind, and she thrashes, her ankle immediately released. His head breaks the surface of the water a few seconds later and his laughter echoes off the rocks; a taunting reminder that she'd lost her cool. She scowls, half-heartedly splashing him as he swims closer. "Asshole." She growls.

His grin is unapologetic even as he reaches for her beneath the water, his arms snaking around her back and tugging her closer. JB lets out a surprised _huff_ as they collide, her hands splaying across his chest. It's like he's been carved from a piece of the quarry, all hard edges and subtle beauty; she feels her cheeks pink. His heart beats steadily below her palm and JB wishes her own would calm, for she's certain it's beating faster than any speed she could ever reach on her motorbike.

"I like that blush." He murmurs, tracing her cheek with his fingertip. His hand cups the back of her neck, and JB can't breathe. He's like a magnet, drawing her in, and she doesn't think she'll ever want to fight the pull.

The ringing of a mobile phone cuts through the serenity, Marina and the Diamond's _Primadonna Girl_ , obnoxiously loud in the echoing quarry.

"Ignore it." He demands even as she detangles herself from his grip.

"I can't." JB pulls herself up onto the Jetty with ease, fishing her mobile from her jacket pocket and answering it, the person on the other end of the line already speaking.

" _Fellow Twin! Party at Thorn Hill tomorrow night, after the formal obviously, you'll be there of course."_

JB watches him as he shakes the water out of his hair and buttons his jeans. They hang low on his hips, and JB allows herself to study him; she was right in her earlier assessment, he truly does seem to have been carved perfectly from stone, a love-letter to the Greek Gods of myth. "That depends Satan, can I stay the night?"

The chiming laugh on the other end of the line is answer enough. " _Mumsy would have a coronary…"_ JB hears her pause, and knows the girl has a grin wider than that of the Cheshire cat. _"A sleepover sounds perfect. Much love, party starts at eleven."_

"See you then." JB murmurs, and the line clicks, their conversation over.

Her own jeans stick uncomfortably to her skin as she tugs them on, her feet get snagged in the rips and idly she wonders if she'll be completely dry at any time today. He's gone from the dock when she ties one of Juggy's old flannels around her waist and slips back into her denim jacket. He's lounging across his bike easily, the machine rumbling loudly beneath him, an unreadable expression on his face.

JB situates herself on her own bike, inserting the keys into the ignition and starting it easily.

"Sweet Pea." He says loudly, and JB looks to him questioningly. "My name. It's Sweet Pea."

" _By morning, everyone would be talking, texting and posting about it. We'd all be feeling it. But the world around us had changed. Maybe forever. That Riverdale wasn't the same town as before. That it was a town of shadows and secrets now. On Monday, the Autopsy on Jason's body would take place. And on Tuesday, half way through fifth-period… the first arrest would be made."_

* * *

 **AN:** This chapter went in a far different direction than I expected.

Thank you to everyone who commented, left kudos and bookmarked. I adore all the feedback and I hope you all enjoy this update.


	3. III - Sugar

**AN:** Any recognisable dialogue belongs exclusively to the Netflix Original T.V Show; Riverdale

* * *

**Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice**

Forsythia Jones; Jellybean to her family, JB to her friends. To him, she's always been something else. Riverdale AU (Aged-up Jellybean)

* * *

 **Chapter III –** _Sugar_

* * *

" _I think many of us, maybe the entire town, had been hoping against hope that somehow Jason Blossom hadn't drowned on July 4_ _th_ _. That we'd come to school Monday morning, and there Jason would be. Or that we'd see him and Cheryl in a booth at Pop's. But that was before the undeniable, irrevocable fact of his bloated, waterlogged body. A corpse with a bullet hole in his forehead and terrible secrets that could only be revealed by the cold steel blade of the coroner's autopsy scalpel or the tell-tale beating of a guilty heart."_

"Hey Pop, Jughead been in today?"

Pop Tate offers her a kind smile as she sits comfortably on a ruby coloured stool, lazily resting her arms on the counter. "Not today Miss Jellybean." He answers jovially.

JB nods, it's really too early for Juggy to be at the Chocklit Shoppe, but she'd been woken with the dawn at Thorn Hill, to the news that Jason Blossom had been shot, and his body dumped in Sweet Water River. "Can I get a milkshake?" She asks softly, "Banana please."

Pop Tate smiles, and not a few minutes later, places the sunshine yellow drink before her. "One Banana milkshake, with _two_  cherries on top, just how you like it Miss Jellybean."

"Thanks Pop." JB digs through her bag for her wallet, pausing when she opens it to find three crisp, hundred-dollar bills tucked where yesterday, there was only small change. It is so like Cheryl, she thinks as she stares down at the bills, to make her want to sob in public. JB hands one bill to Pop, breathing through the tightness in her throat and shaking off the urge to cry. "When Jughead comes in, can you get him his favourites?"

She doesn't offer a further explanation of just  _why_  she's covering Juggy's tab, but as Pop nods and pats her hand in a way that's supposed to be comforting, JB knows she doesn't have to. Of all the people on the Northside, Pop understands better than most, the poverty of the Southside. "Of course, Miss Jellybean." He answers, and opens the register, slipping the bill beneath the tray of coins.

He leaves her to drink her milkshake in peace, and JB sips at it slowly, not in a shallow attempt to savour the taste, but to forget just what she witnessed on the banks of Sweetwater River. She looks down at her hands – she can still  _feel_  Cheryl's hand shaking in hers, still see the flashing lights of Sheriff Keller's patrol car, still hear the zipping of the Coroner's body-bag... smell the faint scent of  _rot_  in the air. Nausea strikes like a physical blow, and she staggers from her seat and down the few stairs like a drunkard, retching into the flowerbeds at the corner of the building. He was so  _young_ , just seventeen to her almost sixteen; a  _child_  by the world's standards. They weren't close, their relationship a mirror of Cheryl's and Jughead's; to call Jason an acquaintance was a stretch, for JB had truly only known him abstractly, he was always just Cheryl's twin, but he didn't deserve to die with water in his lungs and a bullet in his forehead.

She wipes her mouth with her sleeve and sinks down onto the curb, cradling her head in her hands. JB hasn't lived a sheltered life; growing up on the Southside amongst warring gangs she's always understood that people are cruel, and it's the  _innocent_  who suffer the wrongs of the world… but  _murder_ … she's never known this. Jason's body becomes Jughead's and she almost retches again, the very thought of it being  _Juggy_  who'd washed up on the riverbank causing her stomach to turn violently.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket as she focuses on her breathing, attempting to force the nausea to subside. Just last night Cheryl was blatantly spiking JB's cola with expensive rum liberated from her Father's liquor cabinet, and futilely trying to convince her to participate in Cheryl's favourite twisted Party Games. It was harmless, mindless  _fun_ ; until it wasn't because yesterday was gone and only the cruel light of today remained. She thinks perhaps Cheryl hadn't believed Jason was dead, not really, until they were stood at the river side watching as his body was loaded into the back of the Coroner's van.

It buzzes again, and she groans, tugging it from her jacket with little difficulty. The text is short, to the point and out of the blue.

" _You can sleep on my couch."_

JB stares at the screen in disbelief.  _"Are we speaking again?"_

" _We are."_

She's halfway through a response when another text comes through.

" _I'm sorry I disappeared."_

JB backspaces and begins again, interrupted almost immediately by a third text.

" _I'll cook."_

Without replying, JB tiredly tucks the phone back into her pocket. It's another option, an option she hadn't believed she had a few days ago, but she can't bring herself to agree; she just wants to go home, to slip beneath the covers on her bed and never re-emerge. JB hasn't been home since her fight with FP, hadn't wanted to brave her Father's indifference, instead opting to weather Penelope Blossom's cool hatred at Thorn Hill. She knows however, that her welcome with the Blossom's is worn out, Mr. Blossom expressing that she was to make herself scarce before he and Penelope returned from the Sheriff's station, much to Cheryl's open distain.

JB doesn't make her decision for hours; she uses Cheryl's money to put gas in her bike, and heads for the Quarry, wasting time laying on the old wooden jetty, dipping her toes into the water and pretending she's not going to take him up on his offer of a place to sleep. Later though, she inexplicitly finds herself at his door, fidgeting nervously as she waits for him to answer her knock. He doesn't say anything when he does, simply opening the door wider; a clear invitation of welcome.

"I'm still mad at you." JB blurts, hanging awkwardly in the doorway.

Joaquin smiles wanly. "Just come inside JB."

She hesitates. Out of the corner of her eye she can see her family's trailer; the lights are off, it looks…  _cold_ , as though no one even lives there at all. She tucks her hands deeper into her pockets and steps forward, ducking beneath Joaquin's outstretched arm; his trailer is warm, the couch is made up as a bed and there's food cooking on the stove… it feels like a home. JB surreptitiously rubs at her chest, just below her left collarbone, but it fails to ease the ache in her heart.

"How'd you know I'd come?" JB asks after he's closed the door and disappeared behind the wall separating the small kitchenette to the rest of the trailer.

"I didn't." He answers, returning with two bowls piled high with spaghetti and bolognaise sauce. Joaquin offers her a bowl with a soft smile. "But I hoped."

"No more disappearing." She demands.

Joaquin nods his agreement. "I'm not going anywhere."

JB breaks eye contact first and turns her attention to the bowl in her hands, steadfastly ignoring the coil of dread in her stomach and chokes down a forkful of spaghetti. It's too many coincidences; Joaquin's weeks of radio silence, her Father's return to the bottom of a bottle… Jason's murder.

JB takes another bite and swallows the urge to cry, hoping, praying, that two of the people she loves most, are just victims of her overactive imagination.

* * *

She enters the Biology Lab, just as the first bell rings. The room is busy, half the class is seated and the rest stand, mingling and gossiping before Doctor Phylum finally finds his way to the classroom. JB surveys the empty seats warily; there's an open spot next to Juggy, another beside the new girl she hasn't met yet, as well as an empty desk at the back of the room.

"Are you living mannequins suggesting I had something to do with my Brother's death?"

Cheryl's voice sounds loudly, and JB makes her decision, slamming her textbook onto the counter. Tina and Ginger jump, the loud noise frightening them from their interrogation.

"Move." JB orders, dropping her bag beside her chair. "Or I'll make you."

The girls scramble off the desk, and Cheryl smirks as JB takes a seat. "Fellow Twin." She greets and JB quirks a smile, her stomach turning as Cheryl grips her hand beneath the desk. "I'd forgotten how handy it is to have a Southsider around."

"Seats everyone! Pair up, gloves on, scalpels up!" Doctor Phylum calls as he enters, glasses askew and miscellaneous papers falling from his satchel.

"Can I be with Cheryl?" Archie exclaims loudly, and JB clenches her teeth, caught between dread and relief. Archie's interjection has undoubtedly spared her from an uncomfortable conversation with her entirely too observant best friend, but thrown her to the wolves with her Brother, who she's likely to now be paired with.

"Ooh, and I want to be with Betty!"

"Oh, uh," Betty begins, "I was thinking I would partner with Kevin."

"Nope." Moose states loudly, "Keller is with me. We like, talked."

"Moose! You can't do me like that bro." Reggie complains. "Fine, Jones, you're with me." JB wonders if her day can get any worse, even as Jughead stands, a confused expression on his face. "Not you Doctor Frankenstein, I want Wednesday Adams."

JB reluctantly gathers her things, and takes the open seat beside Reggie, staunchly ignoring his wide smile.

"Forsythia." He utters slyly as Doctor Phylum begins with his instructions.

"Reginald." JB returns.

He nudges her with his knee beneath the table and JB straightens her back, moving her leg out away even as he tilts his head toward her. "Oh, c'mon JB, we're friends, don't I get a smile?"

"I wouldn't go that far  _Reggie_." She murmurs, leaning over to look at the frog they're to dissect.

"You wound me Jones, after all we've been through." He sighs dramatically.

JB rolls her eyes and follows Doctor Phylum's directions, cutting into the frog and pinning the flaps of skin down as demonstrated. "I wasn't aware we'd been through anything at all Mantle."

Reggie hooks his foot underneath the straight bar between the legs of the stool and yanks – JB reacts on instinct and slams her fist down, embedding the scalpel she's holding deep into the table top. The classroom seems too quiet as he looks at her, a cruel grin blooming on his lips as he wiggles his unharmed fingers.

"Careful little  _Snake_ , this is the Northside. You're outnumbered here."

"Outnumbered?" She growls. "If one of your Bulldogs lay a hand on me, being on your precious  _Northside_  won't mean anything at all." JB yanks the scalpel from the table. "Threaten me again Reggie, and next time I won't miss." She drops the metal implement in the bowl with the frog and removes her gloves. "Doctor Phylum, I don't feel well, can I go to the Nurse's office?"

The frazzled biology teacher nods absently. "Huh? Uh, of course Miss Jones."

JB shoulders her bag and collects her notes. She's halfway to the door when Doctor Phylum speaks again. "Just a minute Miss Jones." He calls, and she pauses. "Mr Mantle, escort her please."

JB opens her mouth to protest but Doctor Phylum raises a hand. "No arguments Miss Jones, I won't have you fainting in the hallway."

Reggie, toying with the scalpel JB left behind, scoffs. "If Jones faints in the corridor, I'm not lugging her ass to the Nurse's Office."

Behind her back, JB flips him off and, ignoring Doctor Phylum's loud chastisement of Reggie, sees herself out. The noise of metal on linoleum follows her, and her arm is caught in a firm grip before she's even halfway down the corridor.

"You're not sick Beanie."

Jellybean shakes off his grip. "Wow Juggy, your mind, it's like a steel trap. Nothing will ever get past you."

"Witty." Jughead quips but follows her nonetheless. They pass the Nurse's office without ceremony. "What happened in there?"

Jellybean scoffs as she pushes open the double doors leading outside. "Nothing Jughead."

He blocks her path. "It didn't look like nothing."

"Oh, like you care." The biting retort stumbles from her lips before she can consider the potential impact.

Jughead blanches. " _Beanie._ "

"Don't worry about it Juggy." Jellybean replies softly, reverting to the nickname of their childhood and ducking under his arm. "It's nothing I can't handle."

"Have you spoken to Archie lately?" Jughead changes the subject abruptly, and Jellybean stops.

"Why?"

Jughead shrugs nonchalantly. "No reason."

"You're lying." Jellybean accuses.

"So are you." Jughead returns acidly.

"What do you want from me Jughead?" She asks loudly. "Huh? I'm not going to hold your hand and tell you everything is fine to absolve whatever guilt you're feeling about leaving." Jellybean gestures between them. "That's not what this is. I love you Juggy, but I am so god damn  _mad_  at you."

He looks pitiful, and Jellybean thinks she couldn't have hurt him more if she'd hit him. "Don't, don't look at me like that." He begs. "You have every right to be mad at me, but  _please_ , I just want to talk."

"Are you coming home?" It's like he turns to stone before her eyes, and his answering silence is all she ever expected to receive when asking this question. "Right." She nods. "I didn't think so."

Jughead reaches for her again, but JB backs away. "Please Jellybean."

She shakes her head. "I don't want to talk Jughead... not to you."

* * *

 **AN:**  And so we have Joaquin, who simply begged to be written into this story.

Thank you all for sticking with me, I know this has been a long wait.


	4. IV - Rosemary

**AN:** Any recognisable dialogue belongs exclusively to the Netflix Original T.V Show; Riverdale

* * *

**Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice**

Forsythia Jones; Jellybean to her family, JB to her friends. To him, she's always been something else. Riverdale AU (Aged-up Jellybean)

* * *

**Chapter IV –** _Rosemary_

* * *

JB's school spirit is non-existent.

She stands on the edge of the football field, hands deep in her pockets, surveying the gathering crowd as the cacophony of sound washes over her. The steady beat of the marching band intermingles with the noise of the cheers from the people on the bleachers above her, the shouts of the River Vixens as Cheryl leads them through a chant for the gathering Bulldogs. It's surreal, JB thinks, how normal it all seems, the mess of sunshine yellow and bright blue and the all-encompassing _need_ to pretend, that everything is exactly as it was before the fourth of July. The underlying air of solemnity is hard to shake, despite the forced levity and carefully faked smiles.

Her eyes follow Archie speculatively as he hovers stiffly beside the drink station, neither taking a cup nor moving to fill his water bottle – a female teacher JB vaguely recognises stands opposite; it's clear, even from a distance that the woman would rather be anywhere else. _Tense_ is the word that springs to mind as JB watches the woman clutch a solo cup tightly to her chest and shift awkwardly on the balls of her feet. She notices she's not the only one watching the pair as she moves closer to the crowd; Jughead lingers in the space between the bleachers, back pressed against the chain links, blending in seamlessly at the perimeter of the grounds. JB recalls their conversation only days ago – and wonders what about Archie had worried Jughead so much, that he had attempted to consult her?

He sees her coming and offers her a wry grin as she sidles up beside him. "I thought we weren't speaking." He says without preamble.

JB shrugs. "I'm curious." She answers. "What is it about Archie Andrews that has you in _such_ a tizzy?"

"Nothing I can repeat right now." Jughead frowns as Archie jogs in their direction.

"Jughead," Archie nods, "Jellybean."

"JB." She corrects, and eyes the heavy bruising on the left side of his face. "That's one hell of a shiner Andrews."

Archie winces, reflexively touching the darkened skin. "Uh, yeah. Reggie's got a hell of a right hook." He mumbles.

JB nods; she'd heard about the fight in the common room, of Archie's defence of both Jughead and himself – and thinks that even if her aim had been slightly higher, Reggie still would have hit him, no matter the pain it would have caused.

"You know JB, you can call me Archie… you used to."

"I used to do a lot of things." JB retorts.

He nods but seems to let it slide. "Can I, uh, speak to Jug for a sec… alone?"

JB rolls her eyes. "Sure. I know when I'm not wanted." Jughead and Archie start uncomfortably and JB smiles, taking the sting out of the words in an instant. "Calm down boys, it was a joke. I make them, occasionally."

Neither laugh, but the tension drains nonetheless. "Thanks Beanie." Jughead murmurs.

She nods and turns to leave – Archie catches her arm. "I'll see you round yeah?"

"Our lockers are _literally_ right next to each other," JB states, "I'm sure we'll cross paths _Archie._ "

His smile is brilliant, the first she's seen from Archie in what feels like forever and it catches her off guard – they aren't friends, but suddenly, she's reminded of when they were. Loneliness washes over her, and she nods curtly, turning her back on the both of them and leaves them to the conversation they so obviously need to have. She moves again, to the edge of the crowd, watching as the River Vixens step into formation in front of the stage.

"Now, to kick off this Pep Rally," Principal Weatherbee starts, "I would like to hand it over to our very own Mayor McCoy."

Mayor McCoy, resplendent in a purple dress, smiles winningly as she holds an umbrella aloft and steps up to the microphone. JB looks upward – she hadn't even noticed the rain. "Thank you Principal Weatherbee. It is heartening to see so many of you here, even in weather like this, but a lack of heart and school spirit has never been the Riverdale way. Tonight's Pep Rally isn't like any other we've had in the past."

JB's eyes are drawn immediately to Cheryl, who stands to the right of her Vixens – she looks… _small_ and painfully alone. JB attempts to meet her gaze, but Cheryl ducks her head, and avoids her eyes.

"And we shouldn't pretend that it is. Which is why I would like to dedicate this evening to the memory of one of our brightest; Jason Blossom… we're with him tonight." Mayor McCoy pauses, and the brilliant smile again crosses her lips. "Now please, join me in welcoming to the field, our very own River Vixens and their special guest stars, my daughter, Josie and her Pussycats!"

Josie, Valerie and Melody saunter onto the stage, their signature glittering cat-ear headbands adorning their crowns and take their positions with the air of practiced performers; Josie in her mother's place at the microphone, Valerie to her left behind a keyboard and Melody seated directly behind her, on a raised platform, drum sticks in hand. Their set is flawless, as their usual, the song is catchy, not exactly to JB's taste, but it _works_ , in addition to the marching band and is perfect for Cheryl's Vixens to cheer to – she's unsurprised to see the new girl has joined the River Vixens, what is surprising however, is Betty, high pony and all, bopping alongside her. JB finds Mrs. Cooper in the stands, and wonders if somewhere in her neurotic head, when she looks at Betty in the iconic blue and gold of the Vixen's uniform, Alice sees Polly. Cheryl breaks away from the rest of the Vixens and climbs easily onto stage just as Josie finishes the last verse. The crowd roars, and JB claps along with them as Josie sweeps Cheryl up into a tight hug.

Coach Clayton jogs across stage and takes the microphone. "Alright! You all ready? Let's make some noise! Put your hands together, for the Riverdale Bulldogs!"

JB's eyes remain on Cheryl as she claps happily, the Bulldogs tearing through the bright yellow banner held by the River Vixens; Archie runs at the head of the pack, helmet in hand, and JB feels the wind knocked out of her as she stares at Cheryl whose expression crumples painfully at the sight of him – Archie, red-haired and baring the jersey emblazoned with the number nine, is the spitting image of Jason. JB moves an instant after Cheryl pushes the microphone into Josie's hand and flees, stumbling from the stage and sprinting from the field. JB's only seconds behind her as Cheryl bursts into the locker-rooms, and collapses, bonelessly onto the first bench she comes across, sobs wracking her body. Silently, JB kneels at Cheryl's feet and reaches upward, wiping away the smudges of mascara beneath Cheryl's eyes.

"Jason." Cheryl whispers. "He's really gone."

She's unsure how to respond, how to say anything other than; "I know."

Cheryl lurches forward, arms snaking around JB's neck and JB catches her easily, stopping them both before they tumble onto the linoleum. Cheryl's next words are muffled, but JB hears them clearly nonetheless. "He was supposed to come back JB, he promised." Cheryl sniffles, and JB feels her tears soak into her shirt. "I'm alone. I'm all alone."

"You're not alone." JB whispers, but she knows the words are hollow – she can't imagine a life without Jughead, the other half to her whole… she can't imagine how empty Cheryl is, without Jason. "I'll never let you be alone."

"It's not enough."

JB tightens her hold – she can't say she understands Cheryl's loss, and by god, she prays she'll never have to, but she knows at the least, Cheryl's words are without bite. "I know... but I'll be here anyway."

Cheryl buries her head in the space between JB's shoulder and neck, and sobs anew – heart-wrenching, guttural sobs as the realisation that Jason, her twin, the other half to her whole, is truly out of her reach. Her fingers card soothingly through Cheryl's fire-red hair, in the way that JB remembers her Dad would, whenever she'd had a nightmare as a child. It's not enough, to chase away the devastation, but it's all she can offer – soft footfalls catch JB's attention, and she looks toward the doorway; Betty and the raven-haired new girl hover nervously in the threshold, stricken expressions on their pretty faces. Minutely, JB shakes her head and Betty nods, taking the new girl's hand, and pulling her away.

She's not sure how long they remain there, tangled on the cold floor, but eventually Cheryl's sobs fade into hiccupping breaths, and her grip on JB loosens. Silently, JB watches as Cheryl attempts to put herself back together again, her expression transforming into something bright and bubbly that doesn't meet her red-rimmed eyes.

"Cheryl…"

"I'm fine." Cheryl smiles winningly as she wipes her fingertips beneath her eyes, clearing away the last of her ruined makeup. JB reaches for her hand, but Cheryl moves it from her grasp. "I'm fine."

JB nods slowly but doesn't reach for her again. "You don't have to be."

Cheryl shakes her head. "Yes, I do."

"Not with me." JB disagrees and stands, brushing off her knees.

It's subtle, the change in Cheryl's posture, the way her shoulders slump ever so slightly and her megawatt smile falters as she too, gets to her feet. "Please, JB…" Cheryl pleads, and reaches for her hand, lancing their fingers together. "Let me be fine. Let me pretend."

JB glances downward, at their intertwined fingers and against her better judgement, agrees. "Okay." Cheryl squeezes her hand, and JB squeezes back. "But _only,_ for tonight."

* * *

They go to the Southside – it's _odd_ , having someone on the back of her bike, but Cheryl needs the escape, and selfishly, JB doesn't want to go home alone. The trailer park is just as quiet as she expected, most of the occupants are Serpents, and JB knows of a night, they prefer the White Wyrm, to anywhere else. There are still a few lights on – Joaquin's, the trailer she knows belongs to _Sweet Pea_ – but her family's trailer is as dark as it was when she stood on Joaquin's doorstep.

Cheryl slides off the back of the bike like she's been riding one for years, and eyes the trailer curiously. "Where's your dad?"

JB turns the ignition off and scowls. "Out."

Cheryl raises an eyebrow. "Out?"

Jellybean shrugs uncomfortably and unlocks the front door, switching on the light. It's a mess, empty beer bottles litter the floor and dishes are piled high in the sink – it's only been a little over a week since she left, but her lack of presence is clear.

"Oh." Cheryl murmurs, bending down and picking up a discarded bottle. "Out." She picks up another, and another, depositing them in the too full bin. "JB... Is this why you came to Thorn Hill?"

JB shrugs again, slowly emptying the sink of dishes, filling it with water and detergent. "Gladys left. At the start of the summer. Didn't even say goodbye, she was just… gone." It's monotonous, the washing of each plate, cup and bowl but it doesn't distract her in the slightest. "Dad fell off the wagon not long after and Juggy." She lets out a weary sigh. "Well, Juggy left too."

"JB, I'm–"

"Oh god, _don't_ say you're sorry Cheryl." JB shakes her hands dry as she places the last dish on the rack. "I'm fine."

Cheryl shrugs, her smile watery. "So am I."

She snorts a laugh, tears well in her eyes and suddenly JB's not sure if she's laughing or crying – caught somewhere in the middle of morbid humour and crushing sadness, JB reaches for Cheryl, who leans on her like she's the only thing keeping her standing. It's crushing loneliness and unavoidable reminders of what life _used_ to be, it's the lack of warmth when the sun is shining and the darkness that never seems to fade – but in this moment, they almost understand the other's pain.

* * *

They wake to the light of the sun, in a pile of tangled limbs, on the bed Jellybean shared with Jughead until he left. It's late, and they're incredibly hungover, having pilfered the remains of her Father's cache of alcohol – and drank the lot of it.

JB stumbles from the bed, tripping over Cheryl's leg and barely catching herself on the doorframe. "Fuck me." She groans, and watches as Cheryl groggily rubs her now smarting thigh.

"Oh, my _head_." Cheryl complains, sitting up slowly.

"Food." JB mutters, "We need food."

"Pop's?"

JB nods. "Pop's."

"Clothes first." Cheryl points out, as JB attempts to leave half dressed.

JB nods again. "Good call Blossom." She says, and reaches for her jeans, pulling them over the fishnets she's still wearing, and tucks the oversized white t-shirt into the front. "Acceptable?"

Cheryl scowls, and rakes her finger through her red hair. "Barely."

"Bite me." JB mutters – there's an easy kind of familiarity in their banter, a sense of normality that they've both been craving.

Cheryl leers. "Don't tempt me, Jones."

JB smirks and returns her stare. "You couldn't handle me, Blossom."

Rolling her eyes, Cheryl stands – attempting, and failing, to smooth the wrinkles out of her River Vixen uniform.

It's a lost cause, JB thinks, eyeing the skirt critically. "You could borrow–"

"Please, I wouldn't be caught dead in flannel… or ripped denim." Cheryl sneers and JB laughs uproariously as she searches for her bike keys.

"I'm sure you'd be more than happy to take them off though." JB winks, finding them finally beneath her unadorned leather jacket.

Cheryl fixes her with a cool glare and JB snickers, ushering her from the double wide, stopping almost abruptly beside her bike, her eyes drawn distractingly to the trio hanging outside Joaquin's trailer. Sweet Pea meets her gaze head-on, a sultry smirk crossing his lips as he rakes his eyes slowly over her – and hits the ground hard, when Joaquin pulls his attention from the neck of the boy nestled comfortably between his legs and shoves Sweet Pea off the second lounger.

The boy between Joaquin's legs laughs loudly, unafraid as Sweet Pea jumps to his feet, a light dusting of red on his cheeks.

"The fuck was that for?" Sweet Pea growls. The sound is deep and low in his throat and JB wonders suddenly just what other sounds he would make at that timbre – now she thinks, it is her cheeks that are flushed red.

Joaquin raises an eyebrow, not intimidated in the slightest. "You _know_ what that was for."

JB snorts as she starts her bike, ducking her head when the sound returns their attention to her. "Get on Blossom." JB orders and Cheryl complies, sliding onto the back of the bike comfortably.

"Your Southside skyscraper is jealous." Cheryl purrs into her ear, and JB smirks, her eyes flicking back to where Sweet Pea stands, alternating his glowers between Joaquin and Cheryl.

She revs the bike then, speeding from Sunnyside without deigning Cheryl's observation with a response. The diner is busy, but Pop fills their order quickly, raising a single bushy eyebrow at the clock above the soda machine and packs it in a takeaway bag without reprimand. They're only just on time and scoff down a serving of fluffy pancakes doused with Blossom Maple syrup as Cheryl dresses in the change of clothes kept in her locker – they sit together in biology today and Archie, conspicuous in his absence, does not start a call to change the seating arrangements.

"Today," Doctor Phylum starts, underlining 'the circulatory system' on the blackboard. "We will be reviewing new systems of biology starting with the…" He trails off unexpectedly, his attention, and that of the class, drawn, to the imposing figures standing in the threshold.

JB thinks she's never seen Principal Weatherbee look so grim as he surveys the room, Sheriff Keller standing stiffly at his side. JB hears a sharp breath to her right – and almost chokes, when Cheryl slips from her stool and addresses them both.

"You're here for me aren't you–"

"Cheryl." JB hisses.

"–because of the autopsy."

"We don't need to do this in front of your classmates Cheryl."

"It's alright Principal Weatherbee." Cheryl replies, holding out her wrists. "They'll find out soon enough."

Sheriff Keller raises a hand. "That won't be necessary."

"Wait, Cheryl," The new girl asks, "find out what?"

Cheryl looks to her, and JB realises suddenly, what exactly Cheryl had meant, when she said that Jason was meant to come back. "That I'm guilty."

" _As shocking as those three words were, they were nothing compared to the secrets that Jason's body had given up during its autopsy… that Jason didn't die, on July fourth as we believed, but over a week later."_

* * *

**AN:** Rosemary, for remembrance. JB and Cheryl's friendship just begged to be written, so, here it is. If you can guess who is between Joaquin's legs, let me know and you get a [metaphorical] gold star.

Thank you, to everyone who has left kudos, commented and bookmarked - all of you are utterly wonderful, and I am so thankful you are enjoying this!


	5. V - Daisy

**AN:** Any recognisable dialogue belongs exclusively to the Netflix Original T.V Show; Riverdale

* * *

**Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice**

Forsythia Jones; Jellybean to her family, JB to her friends. To him, she's always been something else. Riverdale AU (Aged-up Jellybean)

* * *

 **Chapter V –** _Daisy_

* * *

" _Guilt, innocence. Good, evil. Life, death. As the shadows around Riverdale deepened, the lines that separated these polar opposites blurred and distorted. 'I'm guilty,' Cheryl said in Biology class. But of what?"_

"If print journalism is dead, what are we doing here?"

"The Blue and Gold isn't dead Juggy," Betty smiles, swiping a finger through the thick layer of dust atop an old computer. "It's just…  _dormant_."

"It's just dusty is what it is." JB says, eyeing the unkempt room with distain.

Betty brushes the dust from her hands and smiles again. "C'mon JB, we can wake it up. Juggy, you're writing a novel right? About Jason Blossom's murder?"

"What?"

"I am."

"You are?"

"Yes, Riverdale's very own,  _In Cold Blood_."

"Which, started out, as a series of articles – I'm hoping you'll come write for the Blue and Gold." Betty smiles sweetly, her hands twisted together in an unconscious movement JB recalls from their childhood, whenever Betty would talk them into doing something, she knew her Mother wouldn't approve of. "And Jel, you have a fantastic eye, you could be our photographer!"

JB raises an eyebrow at the re-emergence of Betty's childhood nickname for her as Jughead shakes his head. "I uh, don't think the school paper is the right  _fit_  for my voice."

"Juggy, Jason's death changed Riverdale. People don't want to admit that, but it's true, we all feel it. Nothing this…  _bad_ , was ever supposed to happen here, but it did. I want to know why."

"Betts," JB begins seriously, "your curiosity is going to get you in trouble."

"Good!" Betty answers, "if it means we can find out what actually happened to Jason, I'll welcome any trouble that comes my way. So, what do you say Jel?"

"I'm sorry Betty, but–" JB shakes her head. "Even if I wanted to, I have no equipment, and before you ask, no, I can't afford to buy new or even used gear."

"Will I get complete freedom?" Juggy asks, barrelling past any objections Betty might have raised.

"I'll help, and uh, edit and suggest, but it's your story, it's  _your_  voice."

Juggy smiles, and JB glances between them – they're like magnets, she thinks, watching as they move in sync, gravitating toward each other, until there's less than a foot and a half distance between them and JB feels as if she's been forgotten.

"It doesn't  _sound_  like complete freedom… but I'm in."

The smile Betty bestows on Juggy is like sunshine, all warmth and beauty and JB watches a shadow of it appear on Jugheads lips. "Okay great! Um, in that case, I have your first assignment. There's one person who was at Sweetwater River on July fourth that no one is talking about."

Jughead nods, a curious gleam in his eyes. "Dilton Doiley and his Scouts."

"Exactly."

He brushes his thumb against his nose and offers a smirk even as Betty turns back to tackling the thick layer of dust coating the room.

"C'mon Beanie, we need to talk."

JB follows him from the Blue and Gold – they've fallen into a comfortable sort of truce, neither had voiced a call for one, yet somewhere between their recurring argument about Juggy coming home and the mystery surrounding Jason's death, it's formed nonetheless. Jellybean falls into step beside him, the silence between them companionable as they walk toward the parking lot.

"You paid my bill at Pop's."

Jellybean stops. "That's what you wanted to talk about? That I covered your tab?"

"Beanie," Jughead starts, "fifteen dollars is covering my tab; you gave Pop five times that. Where the hell did you get that kind of money?"

"Does it matter?" She asks, turning away from him.

"Yes!" Jughead retorts, reaching for her arm.

Jellybean pauses, her throat closing around the truth; that it was Cheryl who gave her the money, that she did so without protest. Was it,  _charity?_  Pity? Kindness? JB doesn't know, and honestly, she doesn't particularly care, but Jughead… he  _would_. "I got a job."

"Where?"

Jellybean sighs. "On the Southside Juggy."

Clearly disbelieving, he raises an eyebrow. "On the Southside." He repeats.

"Yes, Christ! On the Southside, where  _I_  live." The dig stumbles out of her mouth and Jellybean winces at the hurt that fleetingly crosses his features. "I didn't," she sighs, "I didn't mean it like that Juggy."

"We can't keep having this argument Beanie."

"I  _know_  Juggy… I know." Jellybean rakes a hand through her hair – and stops in the middle of the corridor, a thought striking her. "Jug, are you… are you ashamed of us? Of, of me and dad and coming from the Southside?"

"What?" He gapes. "JB – Jellybean, no."

"Jug–"

" _No_." He repeats emphatically. "I love Dad, I love  _you_. It's–" Jughead groans, "it's complicated."

"Complicated." She scoffs.

"Yes, it's complicated! I'm not ashamed; no, Beanie, listen to me! I'm not ashamed of you, or Dad or that I come from the Southside." He sighs, shaking his head. "I'm angry. At Mum for leaving, at Dad, for spiralling into the bottom of a bottle, at the  _Northside_ , for the stupid 'wrong side of the tracks' mentality that has them looking down at anyone from the Southside. I'm angry, Beanie," he slumps, curling in on himself, "at you."

"Me?" Jellybean exclaims. "You're angry at me?"

"Yes!" Jughead shouts and stops, suddenly all too aware of the questioning eyes upon them.

He grabs her arm again pulling her into an alcove. "I am angry at you," he sighs, "for not letting me go."

" _Jughead_." Jellybean whispers. "You don't mean that."

"It's not rational." He shrugs, defeated. "But sometimes," Jughead sighs, " _I do_."

JB jerks a nod, her chest suddenly hollow. The decision is made in the space between heartbeats and her expression falls into something cold and blank as she steps backwards – and lets him go. His stricken murmur of " _Beanie_ " is lost to the rushing of blood in her ears as she shoulders past him, out of the alcove and into the still busy corridor; she heads straight for the parking lot, straddling the bike and kicking it into gear, helmet forgotten in her locker in her haste to flee from Jughead and Riverdale High. She traverses the familiar roads on autopilot and soon she's pulling into Sunnyside – with no recollection of the journey between.

It's a curious sort of emptiness that has settled in her chest, the dull ache of loneliness she had been learning to ignore unexpectedly maddening in its intensity. Jughead's rejection stung; he's her brother, her twin… and he wants her in his life no more than she wants Gladys to return to hers. It strikes her then, that for all his faults, it's her Father that has remained constant.

"Some family." JB mutters.

FP, drowning at the bottom of a bottle, Gladys, who'd left and Jughead who wants her to  _let go_. She wonders suddenly, what would her life have been like, had Gladys made good on even one of her promises to get Jughead and herself out of the Southside – it makes her angry. For all Gladys' talk of family first, she was all too ready to leave without any of hers. Serpent  _or_ blood.

She glances at the trailer – without Cheryl as a distraction, it's the last place she wants to be.

"Joaquin?" She calls, skipping one of the three steps leading up to his door, "you there?" He doesn't answer, so she knocks, once, twice, three times before he appears, bleary-eyed and half-naked.

"JB?" He asks groggily, pushing back the hair that's fallen in his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Why did you join the Serpents?" She blurts.

"What?"

"Why," she asks again, slower this time, "did you join the Southside Serpents?"

Joaquin shrugs, the casual movement at war with the storm brewing in his eyes. "Does it matter?"

"No." She shakes her head and ducks under his arm. "Yes." She changes her mind, throwing up her hands. "I don't know. I just, will you tell me why?"

He sighs and shuts the door behind her. "I had nowhere else to go JB." His eyes flick toward the closed off bedroom before seeming to make a decision and sitting down on the worn couch and patting the spot beside him. "Come, sit."

JB curls up like a cat at his side – he's uncomfortable, she notes, tense.

"It's…" He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not a happy story JB. My Father… was not great – do I have to talk about this?"

"No." JB answers immediately.

Joaquin sighs, and continues despite his obvious reservations. "Look, it's a miracle I made it to double digits okay? He wasn't," Joaquin shrugs, "he wasn't always such an asshole, you know? He just didn't know what to with the kid who killed his wife – a part of me  _gets_  it, but when he found out I was  _gay_... he made it clear I was no longer welcome under his roof."

"Joaquin…" She breathes.

"Your Dad found me. Saved my life. Set me up here… I joined the Serpents as soon as I was well enough to run the Gauntlet."

"The Gauntlet?"

Joaquin shifts so he's looking down at her, his dark eyes searching. "You want to join the Serpents." He says finally.

JB nods into his shoulder. "I want in."

"Once you're in JB, there's no out."

"I know."

"Leaving Riverdale, going to College – you have to understand JB, this isn't something you do on a whim."

"When was the last time you saw my Dad Joaquin?" She asks, not waiting for an answer. "This morning right, at the Drive In? Or was it, last night at the White Wyrm?"

"I–"

"This isn't a whim. The Southside is my home and of all the family I have left, FP is the most consistent – he's either drunk at the Drive In or drunk at the Wyrm. Gladys left, Jug doesn't want me and I just…" She swallows. "I can't be alone anymore."

Joaquin's arms tighten around her. "Joining the Serpents won't be a cure-all JB… he won't stop you – he can't without risking his crown – but you have to know, he's never wanted you or Jughead anywhere near this."

"I'm not going into this with my eyes shut Joaquin." She whispers.

He nods. "I'm not agreeing to sponsor you." He raises a hand as JB pulls away, a protest on her lips. "Not yet. I'm not putting you forward as an initiate without FP's blessing. I owe him that much."

It's another question – one she again wants to ask, but she thinks perhaps, she's already pushed too far today. "Okay." She agrees, standing easily.

"Nine o'clock tomorrow, at the Wyrm."

JB nods. "I'll see you then." She hesitates at the threshold, and glances toward his closed bedroom door. "Tell him I'm sorry for interrupting."

Joaquin splutters, and JB smirks, an unfamiliar snort of laughter following her out.

* * *

She takes the bike.

It's not necessary to do so – the White Wyrm is within walking distance of Sunnyside – but it's a way to keep her nerve, a reminder, of why she went to Joaquin in the first place.

' _How do you feel about breaking and entering?'_

She stares down at the text from Cheryl, and blinks. ' _Did you or did you not get arrested yesterday?'_

' _Oh, but that was for murder, this is different.'_  Is the reply she receives and JB snorts, a follow up coming through seconds later.  _'I'm innocent.'_

' _No, really?'_  JB responds – the idea that Cheryl murdered Jason is laughable. Helping him escape the toxic confinement of Thorn Hill she could believe, but murder?  _'Sorry, where are you breaking into?'_

' _School. You coming?'_

' _Can't, have fun.'_

' _Obviously, I love chaos.'_

JB shoves her phone into her back pocket without responding and hangs the helmet on one of the handlebars, carding her fingers through her hair. She tugs nervously at the knots in her curls, hoping Cheryl won't begrudge the choice she's making when the truth comes out; Jughead certainly won't approve, she thinks, staring morosely at the crown carved into the helmet.

"JB."

She raises an eyebrow. "Fully clothed, I see."

Joaquin smiles wryly, tucking his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. "You came unannounced." He chastises gently. "Nervous?"

JB eyes the Wyrm's façade. The gaping jaws of the painted snake should be frightening; but instead, she feels nothing but calm. "No." She says honestly. "I'm ready."

He leads the way, and JB falls into step behind him – it's the sound that hits her first, the knocking of the pool balls against each other, the low rumble of conversation and the faint strains of music she recognises as the kind her Father favours. The bar is dark; all wood finishes, worn couches and red mood lighting – there's a jukebox pushed in a corner and adorning the wall opposite the entrance is a green neon sign, twisted into the shape of a serpent. JB smiles. It feels like home.

She feels their eyes upon her as she follows Joaquin through the crowd, and raises her chin, refusing to buckle under their scrutiny.

Joaquin leans across, tilting his head toward hers as he speaks lowly. "You'll need the vote of the younger Serpents – being FP's daughter and Forsythe's granddaughter is an  _in_ , but these are the people you will interact with, the people you will need on your side." He flicks his eyes in the direction of the bar they're quickly approaching – the girl bartending is young;  _she's pretty_ , JB thinks admiring the pink in her hair and the smile she graces upon Joaquin when she notices him.

"Quin!" She greets enthusiastically as she removes the cap of a bottle of beer, handing it to a Serpent JB only vaguely recognises.

"Hey Toni." He replies with a grin and waves a hand toward her. "This is JB Jones."

JB fights the urge to squirm under Toni's appraising gaze. " _Oh_ ," she smirks, "I  _know_."

"You do?" JB blurts, flushing immediately.

Toni nods, still smirking as she sets two empty glasses in front of her, upending a bottle of lime cordial over each and filling the rest of the glass with lemonade from the post-mix gun. "We have a mutual friend." JB watches, mesmerised as Toni shakes a few drops of bitters mixture into each, turning the clear liquid a vibrant orange. "Dark haired?  _Obnoxiously_  tall. Tattoo of a snake on his neck?"

JB feels her cheeks grow hot and ducks her head, taking a sip of the Toni made her. "How long have you worked here?" She asks, changing the subject.

"Since I was tall enough to reach the top shelf." Toni answers with a grin, allowing her to do so.

"So, about a year?" Joaquin quips, smirking behind his glass.

Toni shoots a half-hearted scowl in his direction. "You looking for a job Princess?"

JB shrugs, it would give truth to the lie she told Jughead. "Maybe."

Toni nods, her gaze appraising. "Well Jones, if you make it through Initiation," Toni scribbles a series of digits on a napkin, and slides it across the bar, "call me. I'll hook you up."

"Hog Eye won't say no to an extra pair of hands." Jellybean freezes, all at once feeling like a toddler, caught with her hand in the cookie jar and she realises she's nervous. Despite Joaquin's adamancy that FP  _won't_  block her initiation, she knows her Father well enough to understand that he  _would_ , for the right reasons. "What are you doing here Jellybean?"

"I came to see you, Daddy." She greets and kisses his cheek – it's a warm kind of affection she hasn't bestowed on him since before he started drinking again, and she knows he'll recognise the calculation in it as a trait she's picked up from Gladys. "Joaquin agreed to sponsor me."

"No." Joaquin contradicts quickly, wilting beneath FP's accusatory glare. "No, I told her, not without your say-so."

"Did you now?" FP drawls, unimpressed. "And what, Jellybean, were you planning to do, when I send your ass home?"

Jellybean fixes him with a mutinous glare. "You won't."

"Girl, I swear to  _God_ –"

" _Don't_ , cause a scene." She hisses, nodding subtly to the Serpents mingling around them in the building. "The Serpents are my legacy too."

" _Your legacy?_ " FP growls, gripping her arm tightly and pushing her into the unoccupied kitchen behind the bar. "You are a child,  _my_  child, and I don't want you near this."

"You don't have a choice." JB argues. "I'm already here, and I want in. You turn me away now and you'll have  _quite_  the scandal on your hands."

He looks furious, she thinks, and somewhat shocked at her audacity. "You think I give a fuck about a scandal? I want you to get out of Riverdale, go to college, see the _world_  – the last thing I want, is you trapped in this life."

"You left–"

"Left? I enlisted Jellybean, it wasn't a holiday or a new life,  _it was war_! And when it was over, I had to come back here, without half the  _friends_  that went with me."

"What if I don't want to leave? What if I don't want to go to college or travel the world? Huh?" She asks angrily, "Did you ever think about that?"

FP looks pained, and she's almost sorry. "Jellybean… I just, " He sighs, "I never wanted you to be forced into this life, like I was."

Jellybean shakes her head, the fight draining out of her. " _Dad_ … I walked through those doors of my own volition and I went to Joaquin because this is what I  _want_. College is two years away, the world isn't going anywhere – joining the Serpents doesn't disqualify me from either… it'll just," Jellybean shrugs, "make it more difficult."

FP bows his head, kneading the back of his neck with his hand. "I'll allow Joaquin's petition–"

Jellybean throws her arms around him, scarcely believing his acceptance. "Thank you." She murmurs softly, feeling his arms tighten around her.

"Don't thank me yet kid, I have conditions." FP states, pulling away and gripping both of her upper arms as he looks into her eyes. It's the same searching gaze that Joaquin fixed on her earlier. "You're gonna stay away from the illegal stuff, if I find you near any of that shit, you'll be out on your ass faster than you can blink, do you catch my Riverdale drift girl?"

Jellybean nods her ascent quickly. "Yes."

"And don't even  _think_ , about getting on Byrdie's stage."

"I won't." She agrees easily – she has no desire to be seen as some kind of hoodrat.

He hugs her tightly again, and Jellybean relaxes in his arms.  _It's been too long_ , she thinks, since she's received this kind of comfort from him – he still smells the same, like whisky and gasoline and something that's just, uniquely  _Dad_. FP presses a kiss on the top of her head. "Don't make me regret this Jellybaby. Please, don't make me regret this."

" _Good and evil. Light and Dark. Betty and Veronica, two sides of the same Janus coin._

_Given Betty's article, Weatherby needed a sacrificial lamb, needed to make an example of someone. So, after Hermione Lodge negotiated a lesser sentence for our two avenging angels, Coach Clayton, to save his job, to save the school's reputation, was forced to cut his own beloved son and goon squad, from the team. An action that, though none of us knew it at the time, would have terrible consequences in the weeks to come._

_But one thing was certain, Betty and Veronica, now, B and V, and maybe forever, had been forged. They walked through fire, and survived. We crave absolutes. They comfort us, but life, is infinitely more complex than that._

_Despite all of our recent troubles, I would have done anything to protect Archie but Dilton Doiley had just opened Pandora's box, and now, there was nothing I, or anyone, could do to save him."_

* * *

**AN:** Here's JB's first  _real_  foray into the life of the Southside Serpents, with Joaquin at her side and Toni behind the bar.

I hope you all have enjoyed this update, thank you to everyone who has left kudos, commented, bookmarked and subscribed. You're all amazing.


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